


In The Case of Akashi Seijuro

by Bondmaiden



Category: Kuroko no Basuke | Kuroko's Basketball
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - Housemates, Attempt at Humor, Fluff and Crack, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-04-16
Updated: 2015-04-16
Packaged: 2018-03-23 05:16:04
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,919
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3755776
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Bondmaiden/pseuds/Bondmaiden
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <i> The stranger who had been following Kuroko from his parked car to the apartment gates pulls his lips into a crooked smile meant to unnerve the weak-hearted. In his eyes are watery reflections of pallid blue, consumed by a sea of red and gold. He’s not much taller, only by a scant few centimeters, but the tight muscles following the contour of his shirt suggests he is more than capable of slamming Kuroko against the nearest flat surface to pin him like a butterfly on a cork board.</i>
</p>
            </blockquote>





	In The Case of Akashi Seijuro

**Author's Note:**

> **How:** im never writing 6k words in one day ever again  
>  **What:** Your staple AkaKuro fic ft. Kisedai housemates and a severely misunderstood Akashi. For 14/4’s prompt of, “Who are you?”  
>  **Why:** It was 14/4 and it’s still AkaKuro week and I decided to give a present to [Akai-Anna](http://akai-anna.tumblr.com/) because she’s been feeling very very under the weather and I can’t give her anything but fanfics so. 
> 
> _Dearest Anna, I know you beta-read TVP and you know by now I’m hopeless without your emperor eye for English, so pls accept this unbeta-ed gift to you. Technically it's beta-read because you read it first but. You know. It’s very silly but I hope it makes you smile because we share the same sense of humour._
> 
> **Who:** Point guard Akashi??? What do you mean point guard Akashi? No no no.  
>  **When:** Setting is somewhere after high school, right in university. Also did I mention this is AU.

It is 10:36 p.m.

The stranger who had been following Kuroko from his parked car to the apartment gates pulls his lips into a crooked smile meant to unnerve the weak-hearted. In his eyes are watery reflections of pallid blue, consumed by a sea of red and gold. He’s not much taller, only by a scant few centimeters, but the tight muscles following the contour of his shirt suggests he is more than capable of slamming Kuroko against the nearest flat surface to pin him like a butterfly on a cork board.

Standing in the empty lobby with cold draft whips Kuroko’s stomach into a tight ball of unsettlement; if he shouts for help, no one for miles around would hear him. The only weapons available at his disposal are a backpack of textbooks and yellow manilla files clutched in his arms; useless, useless things. Tonight could be his last night on Earth, and his parents will never hear of his last apologies to them.

Clearing his throat to ease the tension between them, Kuroko takes a leap of faith by staring at the stranger right in his eyes.

“Who are you?”

Naive, yes, he must be naive for asking a serial killer his name. If the name is something Kuroko could take to his grave and achieve a peaceful death without reincarnating into a vengeful ghost, then he’ll take it all. The last thing he wants to do is to wander around Earth terrorising others—he’s doing a pretty good job as he is right now.

The stranger doesn’t shy away from the eye contact. His face alight with some frenzied emotion Kuroko can’t quite place a finger on; curiosity, euphoria, or dare he say… fascination? No, that can’t be. That’s—

“My name is Akashi Seijuro,” he introduces himself in a tone privy for two; naturally, it doesn’t ease the daunting smile from his face, nor the ill omens in Kuroko’s heart. He has long, elegant fingers, the pale hands you’d see on advertisements for engagement rings and bracelets, and Kuroko can’t help but to follow his—Akashi’s gesture outside the gates.

What is he pointing at?

Does he want Kuroko to follow him outside?

Is that where he will commit the heinous deed of stabbing Kuroko right in his stomach, ripping a knife straight up to his throat to disembowel him on the spot? The open drains there can make for a good site to dispose evidence; the sewer’s strong current will surely wash away Kuroko’s entrails, kidneys, lungs,  _heart_. If he chops Kuroko into cubes tiny enough to avoid suspicion, then he could throw—

“I am the apartment’s new security guard and I can’t help but to notice that you haven’t locked your car,” Akashi goes on, tacking a bit of a frown right there. “You probably should. I’ve heard reports of stolen cars as of late, so you should take the necessary precautions in preventing the crime from spreading.”

* * *

Mayuzumi introduces his palm to his forehead for the fourteenth time. “Why the fuck didn’t you just tell me he’s just a damn new guard instead of just leading me on like that? Do you think this is some kind of game, huh, Kuroko? You get off at night from seeing people like this?”

The private amusement on Kuroko’s face doesn’t go away. “I thought everyone likes suspense.”

Nobody else at the table shares his sour humour. Kise’s left holding the air with tears in his eyes—the poor guy doesn’t even notice his egg-and-ham sandwich has slipped from his hands. The sheer force of Murasakibara’s grasp crushed his packet of chips. Midorima’s staring straight at Kuroko with a tinge of emotion that veers between worry and annoyance, and Aomine’s already cataloguing the list of available weapons for bludgeoning in the house.

“He must’ve clocked in for work during the night shift,” suggests Midorima, subtly adjusting his crooked glasses with the tip of his pinky. “I don’t think any of us saw him when we finished our evening classes.”

“Wasn’t he wearing the standard guard uniform?” Kise asks.

Kuroko picks up his mug of coffee and sips. A second later, he sets it down with an unsatisfactory twitch on his lips and leans over to grab a packet of creamer. No doubt Mayuzumi’s the one in charge of making breakfast this morning. “He said he didn’t get his yet. Apparently Akashi-san is the same age as us—minus Mayuzumi-kun.”

“He’s a university student?” Midorima’s brows shot up to his hairline so fast, they might as well be launched right into space. “How’s that possible? Aren’t there requirements specifically outlining that they have to be of certain age before applying for this sort of job?”

“He’s actually doing this because his university’s coursework gives him credit hours to take up volunteer work.” Unconcerned, Kuroko tears the flimsy packaging apart and stirs white granules right into his coffee. Bitter coffee as bitter as Mayuzumi’s soul doesn’t appeal to his palate of beautiful vanilla milkshake too good for this world. “He goes to Rakuzan University—“

“—the rich kids’ playground where the graduates come out with 99% employment rate,” Aomine snorts, rolling his eyes at Mayuzumi, the sole graduate of Rakuzan in the room full of Teiko University undergraduates. “Figures. That place mass-produces snobs when all they do is just take up space and waste oxygen.”

“Sorry I graduated at the top of my batch and I’m the reason why you guys can afford to rent here because I’m paying most of it,” Mayuzumi retorts. “Brats these days need to show their respect.”

Unrepentant Aomine waves him off with a flick of his hand. “Maybe if you’re dead then sure, I’ll pay my respects to your altar after that.”

Nobody else at the table has anything to add. By the end of this week, they’re sure Mayuzumi’s punishment will be something like replacing Aomine’s Mai-chan stash with 2D hentai, or dyeing his laundry load pink, and they can’t decide which will dent Aomine’s ego the least.

Never mess with someone whose full-time job puts him at home. Sadly, Aomine never got the memo.

They’re effectively brought back to the scene of Kuroko getting mauled by the new security guard when Kise groans, and any hopes of Kise making it big on the records is dashed if he’s going to keep sounding like a beached whale.

“Kurokocchi, why did you make friends with the serial killer!?” Kise moans, holding his head in his hands. “He’s going to find out what floor you’re on, and then after that he’s gonna track down which house we’re in and—what if he learns our schedule and attacks when you’re alone!?”

“He’ll never be alone, he’s got me.” Mayuzumi wrinkles his nose at Kise’s stupidity, sharply introducing the blond’s forehead to his palm this time. “Did you forget I’m the only one working full time here?”

“You two are completely stupid. As long as Tetsu gets home late from his classes, he’ll still walk to the lifts alone. That creepy security guy’s gonna be free to harass him.” Aomine grouses, tapping a dumbbell against his knee. Looks like he’s already selected a weapon of his liking from the choice array of knives, Kerosuke, lucky item statues, selfie stick, and a basketball. “Look, Tetsu’s never gonna be safe unless we all take turns sending him to class.”

By this time, Murasakibara’s finished lamenting over his flattened crisps and settles for Mayuzumi’s signature half-burnt toasts, slathering it with a thick layer of strawberry jam. He bites into a corner to give it a taste test, decides the bitterness of Mayuzumi’s soul has seeped into the bread through its blackened crusts, and chucks it right into the bin. “Hmm… I dunno, I don’t drive, so I can’t take Kuro-chin to class. Muro-chin gives me a ride and we’re in a completely different building.”

And quite suddenly, Kuroko feels like he’s the unwanted child nobody wants to adopt when they start throwing curious looks around the table.

Naturally, it’s up to Midorima to correct the balance of good and evil in their house once more. “I can drive Kuroko to his classes, but he needs to be up by 5.30 because I start my ward rounds at 6:30.”

“My classes only start at 9:30, Midorima-kun,” Kuroko gently reminds his bespectacled housemate in case his glasses interferes with his memory. Maybe it has something to do with how tight they are constricting his brain from both sides. “I’ll be fine on my own. Everyone is just overreacting because Akashi-san looks strict.”

“Kurokocchi can ride me—I mean ride with me,” Kise blurts out, and receives an eyeful of glares all around the table at his confession of intention. “I mean I’m helping him get off—uh, we’re both getting off at the same wing, so it makes sense, right?”

Two strikes is enough to earn him strong resistance from the  ~~relation~~ friendship circle of Kuroko Tetsuya. Midorima looks at Kise as if neutering was invented precisely because of him, Aomine begins sorting out his second weapon of choice, and Murasakibara’s aura of gloom and doom that appears exclusively for basketball angst makes a rare appearance at their table.

Mayuzumi—ever sensible and ever realistic Mayuzumi clicks his tongue with an exasperated sigh. “Look, Kise, sometimes your model work comes in out of nowhere and you get home late. Aomine likes to stay back at courts to practice overtime, so he’s out too. Murasakibara’s already taking up too much space in Himuro’s car so we can’t make it break down by throwing Kuroko in. If you’re going with Midorima, you might as well make the hospital your new home. In the end, it’s either Kuroko gets his own ass to class and risk getting murdered in the process, or he drops out to save himself.”

What Mayuzumi says is right on the dot, as expected of the prestigious Rakuzan graduate. Of course, they can pretend this conversation never happened if they’d stop their overactive imagination of Akashi murdering Kuroko in cold blood right on their doorstep, but that’s proving to be a near-impossible task. So Kuroko lets them bask in their collective stupidity as he contemplates asking Akashi what it’s like studying in Rakuzan’s posh environment. Rumours go as far as saying the washrooms are equipped with air-conditioners and origami toilet rolls.

It is at this point Midorima drums his taped fingers on the table and casts a quizzical look at Mayuzumi’s direction.

“So. Why don’t you send Kuroko for today then?”

That gets everyone’s attention.

“Yeah. You’re just the housewife so why don’t you send Tetsu?”

“I don’t feel like agreeing with letting Kurokocchi get on Mayuzumicchi’s bike but… I don't want Kurokocchi to be dead either… so I’m gonna have to go with the lesser of two evils.”

“Mhmm, Mido-chin is so smart. Now Kuro-chin is going to be safe with Mayu-chin.”

“Uh. But who’s covering for tomorrow?”

* * *

In faux leather jacket with two helmets in his arms, Mayuzumi bears close resemblance to some average street gangster than a nerdy otaku with a bachelor’s degree in thermodynamics physics. It’s probably part of some ingenious plan Kise hatched to deter Akashi from their path; bad boys and hoodlums would always make anyone flee for their lives, but somehow Kuroko gets a suspicion that Akashi won’t even bat an eyelash at the sight of Hannibal Lecter himself.

(More like, he’d invite the chap for some tea and they’d discuss the wonders of the human body in a cozy room somewhere in Vilnius.)

They’re barely out into the parking lot when a bright mop of red tucked under a standard peaked cap materialises right out of the corner. A mesmeric sight in his crisply ironed uniform and silver badge of duty, Akashi is the poster boy of fighting crime in style. Outsiders would’ve trespassed just for the sake of getting a stern lecture from him.

“Good morning,” he greets from afar, adding a little wave—presumably to offer a sense of friendliness as opposed to yesterday night’s disaster. “You’re off to class?”

Before Kuroko gets a chance to open his mouth, Mayuzumi hoists him by the arm and grumbles harshly under his breath. “Don’t even think of getting chatty with that guy. We’re supposed to avoid him, not establish social links left and right.”

Well, they must’ve miscalculated the timing to reconvene their plans, or Akashi’s taken exceptionally broad steps to get to where he is—which is conveniently right beside them. Kuroko never thought it’s possible for Mayuzumi to discolour this fast when he catches Akashi’s eye, evenly matching the whitish shade of his hair.

“Yeah, I’m just about to send him off to campus,” says Mayuzumi in monotone, which is an impressive effort of friendliness coming from his behalf. But his hold on Kuroko’s arm has intensified into a deathlike grip, and there’s definitely going to be bruises on his skin later. “Gotta go, you’re going to have to excuse us for now.”

Everything would’ve gone fine and dandy if they walked away, but Kuroko’s keen eyes captured something.  _Something_ , something is explicitly off about Akashi’s appearance.

And no, it’s not about how he’s a dastardly handsome man in his uniform.

“C’mon Kuroko, get a move on it.” Mayuzumi jostles him in his side, close to growling by now. “I’m not going to stand around and watch you have eye-sex with this guy.”

Eye.

Yes.

Kuroko’s line of sight zips right up Akashi’s uniform and settles on his face.  _Yes_ , that’s it. Yesterday night, Kuroko clearly saw satanic red and yellowing corpses right in those eyes of his, but today, they are mellow shades of blooming roses under the morning rays, brimming with warmth. How is that possible?

Has it all been a complicated trick of the light?

No, that can’t be it. Kuroko definitely knows what he saw.

Did Akashi’s contact lens fall out? But why bother wearing only one side instead of two? For subculture aesthetic purposes? Or is he part of some visual-kei band in his spare time?

Apparently, within the time taken for Kuroko to scrutinise Akashi from head to toe, Akashi has returned the favour in equal enthusiasm. Only, he doesn’t direct it towards Kuroko; he redirects it towards Mayuzumi instead. “Ah, you’re Mayuzumi Chihiro. It’s nice seeing you again.”

_What?_

Kuroko can’t help but to fix Mayuzumi with a look he deems accusatory enough. It’s certainly a refreshing news that screams betrayal. To think Mayuzumi has distant relations with this guy, yet he played his cards by pretending he’s selectively deaf to the name Akashi; who could’ve thought? Murasakibara would crush Mayuzumi to a crisp the second he finds out about this.

But Mayuzumi obviously doesn’t feel the same way. The disgust in his voice is so poorly masked, he should start taking acting classes from Kise. “You  _know_  me?”

“You graduated the year I entered, about two years back,” Akashi helpfully supplies a very vital information to Mayuzumi’s failing ancient memory. “You probably don’t remember, but we were in the same seminar once. Quantum Physics for electives? Sir Fujimaki mentioned you were one of his unexpectedly bright students.”

Mayuzumi’s expression rapidly flickers from enlightenment to disconnection. The transmission is lost. “Uh-huh, yeah, no. Sorry, senpai never noticed you.”

He doesn’t even sound sorry—condescending is more than accurate to describe his tone, being the senior he is. Akashi is only gracious enough to overlook it. “That’s fine, I wasn’t expecting you to. It’s only just a passing glance, Mayuzumi-san.”

At most, Mayuzumi replies with only a shrug to end the conversation and walks right in the opposite direction, stalking off on his own towards a Ducati parked under shaded area. Maybe something about Akashi repels him in some way, but nobody knows the exact reason. Whatever it is, Kuroko’s grandmother had tirelessly reminded her grandson on the importance of politeness, so he lives up to her advice and offers Akashi a small nod.

“I’ll see you later, Akashi-san.”

Akashi easily accepts his farewell without much resistance. “Of course, take care of yourself, Kuroko.”

He would’ve committed the most outrageous mistake of walking off when certain things are clearly wrong here, but thankfully, he stopped himself right at the sound of his name. Kuroko sincerely hopes the sweat rolling down his temple isn’t one born out of fear. “… how did you know?”

“You parked your car in 22-4-B’s lot that’s registered under a Kuroko Tetsuya.” Akashi recites from his mind like memorising parking lot numbers is his special talent from birth. He must’ve noticed something’s amiss, going with Kuroko’s expression as a clue, for he tips his head to the side and smiles. “I simply assumed it’s you. Was I wrong?”

He’s sharp.

“No, you’re right.” Maybe Kuroko should start listening to his housemates’ gut instincts. In the distance, Mayuzumi’s bike roars to life, scaring numerous crows into flight, and he abruptly takes that as a cue for him to leave. The sooner he goes, the better. “Have a good day, Akashi-san."

The smile on Akashi’s lips remains. His quiet voice cuts through the rumble of engine, lingering at the back of Kuroko’s mind.

“Well then, safe journey.”

* * *

_”—and now Mayuzumicchi’s bike is in the workshop! Something about the suspension gone wrong. Kurokocchi, listen to me; it’s got to be that Akashi guy’s work! Nobody else would do it!”_

As much as Akashi had left quite an impression on Kuroko, what with his nifty skills of switching eye colours and memorising parking lots, Kuroko isn’t sure if Akashi would go as far as messing with the suspension on Mayuzumi’s bike. Mayuzumi is definitely the kind of guy who would blow his cash on limited edition figurines and anime merchandise. Somewhere along the way, his regressing memory must’ve forgotten to remind him about running monthly maintenance on his bike.

Oh well. No matter. Kuroko had suspected as much when he doesn’t spot Mayuzumi right where he should be, which is at the bus station, so he had taken it upon himself to trot down the streets and head right towards the train. He cuts off the call with a snap when Kise goes off tangent about how Akashi will hotwire his car tonight and probably take it on joyrides, running over old people on the roads.

The perks of being in Teiko University is that it’s easily accessible via public transportations such as bus and taxis alike, a little about ten minutes on foot if one takes the train, so by the time Kuroko taps his card on the reader and the automated barriers permits him entry, he reaches the platforms overcrowded with fellow students. Somewhere between clusters of the usual Teiko faces from law and accounting departments, unfamiliar ones lurk about; the staple collection of weary businessmen and wan-faced salesgirls in their melting makeup.

Kuroko, with fluidity that comes packaged with his lack of presence, slips through the crowd and picks a secluded spot hidden right behind a billboard advertising Arc-V. He sits down, fishes through his book bag to procure a copy of Marquez’s novel so he’d be able to pen in a discourse by midnight, and starts reading.

* * *

It is 7: 49 p.m.

Seirin Apartments in Kanagawa is a beautiful series of post-modernist buildings slapped with a steep price tag, catering to fancy prospective buyers. Over time, various students proclaimed it is an excellent spot for renting houses, and bundled their cash together to live here. Pros include: Great food just around the corner, all major public transports are linked up for ease of passage, Mayuzumi’s paying 50% of the rent because he’s the only one bringing in big dough,  _and_  there are two gates for parking lot entry.

Cons? One of said gate is currently guarded by Akashi Seijuro, whilst the other is locked, following the standard night time protocol.

By right, Kuroko shouldn’t feel daunted, or even remotely threatened by the new security guard. Their job is to make residents feel secure in their presence; not like the sudden rapid heart rate Kuroko experiences every time Akashi blinks his way.

With the average security guard, Kuroko could work his lack of presence and pass by undetected, but with Akashi’s sharp eyes marking him just as soon as he appears, his plan lies buried. Before he could even step one toe over the raised cobblestones, Akashi’s voice accosts him on the spot.

“Good evening.”

Manners first. Kuroko straightens up, tucks his bag closer to his side, and dares himself to stare at Akashi right in the eyes.

They’re red and gold. Again.

How suspicious.

“Good evening, Akashi-san.” Kuroko sweeps off the lingering unease from his heart, lowering his chin deferentially. “How’s your day been?”

Akashi considers this question while having the expression of a man who hasn’t quite gathered his thoughts on how exactly the day has been. Oddly, he summarised it with a hum. “Quite well, actually. Yours?”

What is he supposed to reply to that? Having the question tossed right back into his lap is unexpected. It’s supposed to be a how-do-you-do and I’m-fine-thank-you sort of encounter, not how-do-you-do and quite-well-what-about-you sort of thing. It is only natural for Kuroko to take more than a few seconds to come up with a proper response.

“Mine too.”

If his response is lacklustre, Akashi generously passed it off as exhaustion from lecture classes. However, Akashi’s eyes greedily consume whatever details he can find on Kuroko’s face, and he hopes it’s a bunch of tight lines and dark eye bags to testify for his curtness.

“Good work. Now you can rest easy.”

What a peculiar choice of words. Like a boss to his dedicated coworker who spent two overnight sessions in his office. His words don’t sit quite right with Kuroko, but he is only one man against one-man-army Akashi. Getting murdered tonight, out of all nights, isn’t part of his plan. The wisest thing to be done right now is to walk off and pretend they never had this conversation, but something niggles at his mind.

With a slight frown, Kuroko watches Akashi closely. “How come you’ve been working for the whole day? Don’t you have classes to attend?”

His sudden question doesn’t take the other by surprise. If anything, Akashi appears to have anticipated it by reciting his lines in front of the mirror twenty times before Kuroko comes. “It’s my day off. But my working shift ended shortly after you left, so I took a break by then.” He puts in a little tilt of his head as if that would make Kuroko feel better at how uncanny everything is working out. “Night shifts usually begin at seven.”

This must be some elaborate joke. Finding nothing else to say other than the only thing playing in his mind, Kuroko decides to give it a shot. “What a coincidence.”

“Indeed.”

Should he pursue more investigation on this matter? Golden-eyed Akashi stares down at him from his imaginary throne, reeking of filthy haughtiness and delusion of grandeur even though he’s just a security guard. Where have all the sunshine and prince-like smiles gone to? This morning, he seemed to vibrate with the intense joys of life and even overlooked Mayuzumi’s nasty bout of discourtesy; now, if Mayuzumi were to pull that one again, there’s little room for discussion and it’s straight to the chopping board for him.

 **This**  Akashi and  _that_  Akashi are obviously two different people.

What if he has a twin brother? It isn’t a farfetched theory, is it?

Perhaps thinking for the best in the future, Kuroko gives chase to the theory. “How long do you have to do this?” he asks.

To which Akashi cradles his chin with his hand like a modern day The Thinker and answers: “Until my semester ends. Give or take fifteen more weeks and I’ll be done.”

“So you’re working here alone?”

Charming, charming Akashi gives a small chuckle and shakes his head. “Not at all. Someone is supervising me. Coincidentally, he’s almost here.”

This is sounding more like an interrogation than a friendly conversation. Here comes someone to give weight to Akashi’s alibi, and judging from the scrape of shoes on tarmac, he’s drawing closer. Not wanting to be caught with his back to a would-be perpetrator, Kuroko takes a few steps backwards and cleverly positions himself so he’d be treated to equal views of Akashi and his conspiratorial partner.

Only, he doesn’t expect to see  _the_ Nijimura Shuuzo, two times national karate champion, black belt expertise, black wristband on his forearm, and black hair slicked back, neatly tucked under a similar peaked cap. In his hand is a 7-11 plastic bag crammed with bottles of Calpis and Pocari, a few boxes of tidbits, and a magazine on the local basketball scene. None of those would make for a good murder weapon, Kuroko reasons.

“Hey guys,” Nijimura greets them with a grin, nodding at their respective directions. “Kuroko, Akashi. Since when did you two become friends?”

“We made proper acquaintances last night,” replies Kuroko. He can only hope he doesn’t sound too nosy when he pries further with a carefully worded bait. “Nijimura-san, I didn’t expect you to know Akashi-san.”

“How can I not know him?” Nijimura answers, chuckling. There’s fondness in his eyes when he glances Akashi’s way, a private moment of shared memories. “He’s my junior. You know how I started volunteering here last year? I got into the hang of things quicker than I thought, and the pay’s pretty good, so I’ve been part-timing. Since Rakuzan made it compulsory to take up volunteer work in exchange for credit hours like what I did, I told him to help me out.”

It isn’t impossible for someone of Nijimura’s stature to make friends with Akashi.

Sure, he has a big heart, but his vicious streak earns him quite the reputation. After all, everyone’s heard of his uncontested victory over the rude bikers who always harassed female students walking their way back to Seirin. Assuredly, Nijimura kicked their leather-clad backs with his foot, threw more than ten punches around to break about five noses and three skulls, revved up one of the Yamaha motorcycles lying around, ran over their sorry asses, and they were never seen again.

A legendary tale to be passed down to his children indeed.

“You can always volunteer at soup kitchens or some pet shelters around the area,” Nijimura adds, leaning his weight on one foot and gesturing absently with his free hand, “but I think this guy needs something new.”

All this while, Akashi has perfected the reenactment of a silent antagonist in his corner. He allows Nijimura to do the talking for him, and the man is more than happy enough to fill in the details about how things are done around here. What he says goes right in and out though; Kuroko’s eyes surreptitiously glide from the sight of Nijimura prattling, to Akashi’s face.

And Akashi’s eyes meet his.

“—‘sides, it’s not much hard work. All you need to do is walk around, take down some visitor’s name, and watch the security cameras every few minutes. That’s it. If anything big goes down, we usually call—“

This is unsettling. All the time, Akashi’s trained his eyes on him. While the prospect of being stared at is something familiar to Kuroko, being scrutinised right down to the molecules composing his body sends the usual cliche of chills running down his spine.

“—we don’t like having Haizaki Shougo around here. If you ever see Haizaki coming around the corner, call me right away. That punk thinks this is the perfect spot for him to pick up rich girls—“

The golden oldies used to say: If you break an eye contact with a cat, it will deem you untrustworthy for life. But Akashi is more than a household feline looking for companionship. He’s a lion prowling in from the Savannah, and Kuroko is the unfortunate gazelle waiting to be his dinner. Eye contact means nothing to a hungering predator.

Just as soon as Kuroko finished outlining an escape pattern from where he stands, Akashi’s expression takes a drastic change.

The corners of his lips quirk subtly upwards.

It is a perturbing smile.

“—Tetsu! I was just about to get you!”

Somewhere from beyond Akashi’s guard post, Aomine dives out of the unlit lobby to the rescue, barely detectable in the distant darkness, save for the bright spark of blue highlighting his hair. Sweat pours down his forehead in streaks, and damp spots have begun manifesting on his shirt. Aomine’s sudden appearance gives Kuroko the much needed excuse to break off the disconcerting eye contact he shared with Akashi.

Nijimura, too, stops his prattling to stare at their sudden addition.

“Aomine? What’re you doing here? I thought you have practice?” Nijimura reminds him in that fatherly warning voice, a signal for ‘ _I will dropkick your ass if you don’t explain to me why you’re here._ ’. “Don’t tell me you’re slacking off again? Your placement test is next month and you can’t miss out on that scholarship.”

Aomine might’ve paled in a second, but his dark complexion against the dusky background makes it even harder to tell. “I, uh, cut my basketball practice short when I found out that jerk Mayuzumi wasn’t even serious about picking up Tetsu from Teiko. Kise said he’s gonna be stuck at the workshop until they’re done working on his bike.”

“Oh?” Nijimura’s face changes expression, accompanied by the slightest of frown when his eyes rove over Kuroko’s form. Rather than wasting his worrying on Mayuzumi, he showers it on Kuroko. “Something wrong with your car? Brake disc okay? Or is it the gearbox acting up?”

Well, now that the line of conversation has come to this, there is no possible way for him to clarify that his housemates are beyond convinced Akashi is an unregistered serial killer without making Nijimura cringe at the utter hyperbole of the situation. To him, maybe he’d pass it off with a laugh and say it isn’t Akashi’s fault that he’s born with such a scary face, and stop the conversation right there. To them, Akashi is a probable psychopath disguised as Seirin’s security guard.

They’re all making a mistake here.

With Aomine standing there, uneasily shifting his footing because he just realised he came in close proximity with the devil himself, it doesn’t make things easier for explanation. “Nah, it’s just that there’s a new creep around here who’s been harassing him last night and we don’t want anything to happen to Tetsu. So we’re gonna take turns picking him up and escorting him home.”

And it is indeed an Aomine trademark for being capable of such blunt honesty. If it were anyone else being the subject of the insult, they would’ve raised their fists and have a round or two at street fighting right there.

In Akashi’s case, he doesn’t rise from ominously curling black smokes, brandishing a fiery pitchfork from hell to stab Aomine in the buttocks for speaking ill of him. Classier than that, he only regards Aomine like how an owner would do when the dog misbehaves.

From here, Kuroko deems it wise to take over. “Aomine-kun, let me introduce you to the one I talked about this morning.” Stepping up to settle between the two in hopes of diffusing the tension, Kuroko gestures towards the redhead. It feels like his part-time kindergarten work all over again. “This is Akashi-kun. Akashi-kun, this is Aomine-kun. He’s my housemate.”

From his corner, Akashi finally speaks up. His voice carries a sharp tone, the very peaks of an ECG line in the hospital. “Pleasure to meet you.”

Aomine clearly doesn’t share his sentiments. “Okay. Same.”

Kuroko could only sigh in exasperation. There’s no way to do this without furthering the damage done between the two. Cuffing Aomine by the wrist, Kuroko drags him past the two and manages a slight wave of goodbye amidst the fit of Aomine fighting to get away.

“Have a good day, Nijimura-san, Akashi-san, I’ll see you again tomorrow.”

* * *

Midorima is the first one to roll his eyes while casually taping his fingers. “You guys are making bad choices.”

“At least not as bad as the time [Mayuzumicchi decided to dye his hair orange](http://kurokonobasuke.wikia.com/wiki/File:Rakuzan_Replace_IV.png).” Kise shrugs. “I mean, I know you’re trying to be an anime antagonist and you need some striking factor but orange is so not your colour. Do you need my stylist’s help or something?”

“Leave me out of this if you don’t want me to use your facial wash to substitute the toilet bowl cleaner, Kise,” comes the somber threat. Mayuzumi’s half-buried head peers upwards in the nest of his arms. “I’m already broke as it is and you’re not helping.”

Aomine’s eyes drift from a box of popsicles buried under rainbow plastic packaging, right to Murasakibara’s greedy hands finishing the last strawberry treat. Some things in life have ceased to shock him anymore: Case in point, Murasakibara’s ability to finish half a dozen frozen treats in one sitting. But today, this comes in handy. “Oi, you done yet, Murasakibara?”

“Mhmm.” The giant licks his dripping fingers in a way he sees fit to clean himself and tosses a handful of wooden sticks at Kise’s direction. Wiping the rest of the mess on his overalls, Murasakibara watches Kise greedily uncap a felt tip pen and writes numbers on them. “Kise-chin, are you sure this is a good idea?”

The blond shrugs and squiggles a little 2 on a yellow-tinged stick that reeks strongly of artificial pineapple. “Kurokocchi didn’t say anything about it, so why not?”

At the far end of the table, the only average man sitting in a forest of oversized teenagers could only shoot him a withering look. With a novel halved right in front of him, littered with highlighted words and translated context, the discourse due midnight is more important than their usual bantering. “I refused, but nobody listened. So I’m ignoring everyone.”

“Tetsu, this is for your own good,” says Aomine, digging his ear with his pinky and yawning. “So we’re all gonna agree if that Akashi asks what’s our relationship to Tetsu, the answer is: We’re his boyfriends, right?”

The halfhearted mumbles and noncommittal gestures coming from everyone is interpreted as universal acceptance of the subject. It’s good enough for Aomine.

Once Kise’s done with his little task, he upturns the popsicle sticks in his fist so the numbers are covered by his palm, loosely shaking them. Their rattling is symbolic of fortune telling sticks in shrines. With the deed done, he bunches them tightly and holds them out at the centre of the table.

“Get your numbers, everyone,” Kise announces with a beam. “Don’t forget to leave one for me, okay?”

Murasakibara’s the first one to uncurl himself from the chair and swipes a stick. Midorima picks out two numbers for himself; he keeps one, and the other, he deposits it at Mayuzumi’s corner. A grunt of gratitude comes from the gloomy adult. Kise pulls out a stick for himself before Aomine could wrestle one, glowing victoriously.

Kuroko staunchly observes their interaction with a stare that is assessing the state of their mental health. “Even if I say stop, nobody is going to listen.”

His statement goes ignored.

Sudden silence envelopes everyone.

Midorima adjusts his glasses. It glints ominously under the light. “So. Who’s boyfriend #1?”

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading!  
>   
>  ~~Plot twist: Akashi really has a twin brother and they alternate shifts ahaha~~


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